


Our House, In the Middle of Our Street

by Avengerz



Series: Roomies [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, get-together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6868762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avengerz/pseuds/Avengerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's a broke college student with too much debt and too few limbs. </p><p>Tony's finally been cut off and has to find a roommate that can put up with his Tony-ness.</p><p>They're an unlikely pair, but somehow, despite 5AM expiriments and lingering PTSD, it works.</p><p>Then <i>feelings</i> happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stark-N-Barnes (StarSpangledBucky)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/gifts).



> My fill for the Winteriron Spring Fling. I actually combined two prompts from my assignment:
> 
> "Morning person and a night person are assigned as roommates in highschool/college. Who the morning or night person is, is your choice" and "Alternate universe where Bucky and Tony get mistaken for a couple. How that comes about is up to you"
> 
> It's been such a wild ride to actually get to this point, y'all have no idea. But I had fun so I hope you enjoy!

Light slips through cracked blinds, a dawn flush sneaking across a floor strewn with discarded clothing and cracked textbooks, and settles comfortably on tangled sheets. Beneath them, a figure stirs, rolling towards the warmth of the sun before settling again. A soft snore disturbs the still air. Dust mites drift in the beams of morning light sparkling off a gleaming chrome arm.

  
A horrid, piercing screech of metal against metal breaks the peace. The figure groans, curling into the pillow in a fruitless attempt to block the sound. The sound desists, the beleaguered sleeper relaxes, and peace reigns once more.   
  
An explosion rocks through the room, shaking the thin wooden door on its hinges and sending a precariously balanced pile of textbooks tumbling to the floor. The sharp, staccato bark of a frantic dog floods the room along with acrid smoke.

 

The figure shoots upright, his sheets twisting around his waist as he bellows in the general direction of the door.  
  
"TONY! THAT BETTER NOT HAVE BEEN OUR KITCHEN!"   
  
For several long moments, there is silence. The figure, grumbling, pushes himself out of bed and starts picking at the clothing on the floor.

  
"Take on a roommate, they said," he mumbles as he sniffs at a pair of jeans. "It'll be nice, they said. Only have to pay half the rent! Yeah, well," he straightens, shouts towards the hallway again, "you're paying to fix whatever you just destroyed, punk!"   
  
Another beat of silence, then, muffled but nonetheless apologetic, a shouted "sorry!"   


 

* * *

  


Bucky would be the first to admit that they made an odd pair. A broke and broken amputee and the genius son of a billionaire? Not the most likely of roommates. But the circumstances that had drawn them together were just as unlikely. No one could have predicted that after years of ignoring it, Howard would have finally had enough of his son’s partying and cut him off, forcing the suddenly penniless graduate student to find a roommate or end up on the streets. And the truck that had mangled Bucky’s motorcycle and his arm, forcing him to take out yet another loan to cover medical expenses, had certainly come as a surprise.

 

Then Tony had shown up in response to Bucky's listing, draped in arrogance and pride despite his desperation. Bucky had spared enough time to check that Tony wasn't a smoker or a drug dealer before accepting him as a roommate, equally desperate in his efforts to pay for his tiny flat in the heart of Boston.

 

Somehow, it works.

 

* * *

 

There's a knock on the door. Bucky, in the kitchen, startles, almost spilling coffee all over himself. He'd been waiting for this all day, had even camped out in the living room while he studied so he could be closer to the door. His best friend has always delighted in making life as difficult as possible for him, though, so of course Steve arrives the only time Bucky is on the other side of the apartment. Bucky’s not quite so pathetic as to cast aside his coffee and leap over the couches to get to the door first, so Bucky doesn't open the door.

 

“You can sign me up for whatever you're selling, you delicious slice of American pie.”

 

Tony does.

 

“Um, hello.” From the doorway, Bucky can see the look of complete bemusement that crosses Steve’s face. There's more amusement than embarrassment, though, so Bucky figures basic training must be doing something right. “You must be Tony.”

 

“That I am, gorgeous.” Tony leans against the door jamb, and Bucky can imagine the lascivious grin that must be spread across his face. Bucky's been the subject of it often enough, after all. “And unless it's my lucky day and you're a secret admirer here to confess your undying affection,” he pauses pointedly, but Steve just raises an eyebrow, “you must be Steve, Bucky’s friend.”

 

“That I am,” Steve echoes. He shifts the huge duffel bag he carries over one shoulder, pointedly peering into the hallway behind Tony. “Is Bucky here?”

 

Bucky jolts into motion, carefully setting aside his mug and jogging into the hallway. “I'm here. Hey Steve.” He grins at Steve over Tony's shoulder, glad beyond measure to see his best friend again. Steve beams back, then nods towards Tony, eyebrows raised. Bucky rolls his eyes and lightly shoves at his roommate. “Leave him alone, Tony.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony steps away from the doorway, though not before dragging his eyes across Steve’s straining white t-shirt one last time. “I shan't besmirch your buddy's honor, Barnes.” Before Bucky can start to feel relieved, Tony waggles his eyebrows at Bucky. “Your’s is still on the table, though.”

 

“Not until you fix the coffee maker, it isn't,” Bucky shoots back, long used to such comments. “A guy can only live on K-cups for so long, I need some properly brewed coffee.”

 

Tony sighs loudly. “Making me work for it, huh?” He casts Steve a forlorn look, but he's turned to the wrong corner for pity. Steve just smirks at him, amused and entirely unhelpful. Tony sighs again, even louder, and shuffles towards the kitchen. “This wouldn't be a problem if you would just use mine,” he calls over his shoulder, an old argument.

 

“When you deign to create an espresso machine that mere mortals can actually operate, then we’ll talk,” Bucky returns without a beat. “For now, get to work.”

 

Bucky can't see it, but he can practically sense the eye roll that Tony directs at the ceiling as he leaves the room. Grinning, he turns back to Steve.

 

“Come on in, punk.” He drags Steve into the apartment by the strap of his bag, then steps back to appraise him. Through some insane combination of late growth spurts, a constant food source, and the intense exercise regime of basic training, Steve has shot up like a weed in only a few months, and gained the muscle mass to match it. Bucky’s watched it happening, of course, over their weekly FaceTime sessions and monthly visits, but it's still strange to have to look up to meet Steve’s gaze. “Weren't you smaller?”

 

Steve only laughs.

  


 

They're still laughing hours later. It was tough, Steve enlisting so shortly after Bucky's accident, and the hour they'd gotten to talk to each other each week, even accompanied with hundreds of texts, wasn't quite enough for Bucky. He'd missed his best friend, but now they have an entire week to wreak their usual havoc while Bucky takes a break from work and Steve crashes on their couch.

 

Steve is riding the energy of a time-zone shift and laughing uproariously as Bucky regales him with the tale of Tony’s revenge on a particularly cruel professor when the man in question stumbles into the room.

 

“Y’guys know it’s one AM, right,” he mumbles, leaning heavily against the wall and squinting adorably in the light of the bright living room. “A guy needs his beauty sleep.”

 

“I don't know, I think you're doing fine without,” Bucky shoots back. Steve, of course, looks guilty, and Bucky shakes his head at him. “Don't worry. Aurora here doesn't have class until tomorrow afternoon, and anyways, he woke me up last week at five in the morning by blowing up our kitchen-”

 

“It was just your coffee machine!”

 

“-by blowing up _my_ coffee machine, so he really can't complain.”

 

Tony scowls darkly at him for that, but apparently can't think of anything to his own defense. Instead, he collapses onto the couch, knocking his head against Bucky's thigh in silent remonstration. Bucky rolls his eyes but allows it, lifting his prosthetic so that Tony can pillow his head on Bucky's legs.

 

“What's so funny, anyways?” Some of the annoyance has left Tony's voice, replaced with genuine curiosity.

 

“You remember Dr. Newby?”

 

“The biotech professor?” At Bucky's nod, Tony grimaces. “Who could forget that greasy old hack? He gave me a C on my final project, y’know,” he tells Steve, who nods and politely pretends that Bucky hadn’t already told him this. “Said my ideas for nanotech implants to help amputee victims neurologically connect with their prosthetics was ‘impractical’ and ‘at the very least, too costly.’ Well I showed him, didn't I?” Tony raps his knuckles against Bucky's arm with a triumphant grin. Bucky rolls his eyes and fails to suppress a grin of his own, but Steve looks surprised.

 

“I thought your-your dad invented Bucky's prosthetic.” Steve stumbles over the word, still adjusting to the idea that his best friend’s roommate is Howard Stark’s son. Bucky ignores that, instead glancing down to watch Tony's expression. He knows that Tony and his dad don’t get along very well, obviously, but Tony refuses to talk about it.

 

Sure enough, his expression has shut down, though his tone is carefully light as he replies to Steve, “nope, I started the Stark Prosthetics line. It's a common misconception, though, don't worry about it.” Steve tries to apologize anyways, Tony waves it off again, and awkward silence reigns. “So why were you talking about Newby anyways?”

 

“I was telling Steve about the Winter’s Ball.”

 

Tony laughs. “Oh, yeah! I had almost forgotten about that. My long-sought revenge, hah. Well, go on,” he shifts, resettling himself more comfortably on Bucky, “don't let me stop you.”

 

Bucky grins down at him and turns back Steve. “Where was I? Oh, right. So Newby’s still covered in purple dye, he's now wearing a lacy bra over his ruined tuxedo, he's got no shoes on, and he still thinks he's got to be on stage in five minutes to give a speech. That's when Tony pulls out the barrel of feathers.”

  
  


 

Despite Bucky's truly magnificent storytelling abilities and Steve’s roaring laughter, Tony's asleep when Bucky next looks down, gently snoring and curled into Bucky’s stomach. It is, Bucky has to admit, pretty adorable.

 

“He was trying to fix my coffee machine, y'know,” he tells Steve without looking up. “I mean, it wasn't broken. But this idiot,” he flicks lightly at a particularly fluffy spike of Tony's hair, “said it wasn't good enough. Too inefficient, watered down the brew too much, somethin’ like that.” Bucky snorts. “Guy’s too used to improving airplanes or generators. Completely destroyed my poor brewer.” Bucky had been pissed at the time, with class too soon to warrant going back to sleep and without any coffee to keep him awake, but now the incident seems funny.

 

“He's good for you.”

 

Bucky looks up in consternation at the soft tone in Steve’s voice. “What?”

 

“Tony.” Steve nods at the rumpled engineer on Bucky’s lap. “He makes you smile, Buck.” While Bucky gapes and tries to figure out what the hell to say to that, Steve’s smile fades. “There was a time I wasn't sure you'd ever smile again, y’know.”

 

“Steve…”

 

It's true. The first two or three months after the accident had been rough, beyond rough. Bucky had fallen into a deep depression, angry at his new limitations and wracked with nightmares about the harrowing half hour he had spent trapped under the semi that had hit him. He'd lashed out at anyone who tried to help, isolating himself from friends and family and generally making himself miserable. Then Stark Industries had offered him an experimental prosthesis as part of testing for their new product, and everything started to fall back into place. MIT offered him a scholarship great enough to warrant leaving his shitty community college (the essay prompt had regarded “overcoming difficulties”), Sam dragged Bucky into therapy, and Bucky started to take control of his life again.

 

Now, a little over a year after the accident, Bucky still got frustrated with himself and he still suffered from the occasional nightmare, but he had an apartment and a pretty good part-time job. And he had Tony.

 

Bucky looked back down at the sprawled mess of a genius in his lap, something like horror crawling up his throat. “We-we’re not together, Stevie,” he managed to choke out against the sensation.

 

“Really?” Genuine surprise colors Steve's voice. “But I thought-” His expression, when Bucky looks up at him, is just as shocked. “The way you always talk about him and the way you two were acting earlier, it just seemed….” Steve trailed off into a shrug, embarrassed now. “It seemed like you were dating. Which I’d be fine with,” he adds hastily, carefully watching the play of emotions across Bucky's face. “He seems like a pretty cool guy, and if he makes you happy-”

 

“Well we’re not dating,” Bucky says abruptly. His voice is too loud, his tone is too short, and Tony mumbles something unintelligible and shifts against him. Bucky glances down at him quickly, waiting until he settles before continuing in a quieter but no less emphatic whisper. “I'm nearly certain he's straight, anyways.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says slowly, and he's still watching Bucky cautiously and Bucky _hates_ that look, hates feeling like he did last year, like a ticking time bomb of surpressed emotion.

 

Bucky carefully shifts Tony on to the couch and stands. “I'm gonna grab another beer. You want one?” He forces levity into his tone, and Steve, the amazing guy that he is, goes along with it.

 

“Sure.”

 

Bucky nods shortly and stalks into the kitchen. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, and when he gets back he sits in the available armchair.

  
Sometime around three, Tony wakes with a start. He looks around him, bleary-eyed, and mumbles something to himself before shuffling towards his room. Bucky watches him go, silent.


	2. Chapter 2

The stupidest thing is that Tony really doesn't see it coming. Sure, Howard called to yell at him after every new scandal, cussing him out and threatening to disown him, but his old man always shelled out the money to keep the story out of the papers and he never, ever followed through.

 

Then one morning Tony wakes up in the hospital with a hangover, a broken ankle, three cracked ribs, and a pending underage drinking charge. None of this is anything new (fourth time this semester, actually) but this time, wonder of wonders, Howard is there, pacing back and forth at the base of Tony's hospital bed and glaring at the nurse who has to check Tony's vitals.

 

“So,” Tony starts when the poor woman scuttles away, “have you been replaced with a pod person who actually cares about my wellbeing or did you just come to yell at me in person?”

 

“You almost died,” Howard snarls, and from anyone else it would sound worried, but he just seems irritated by the inconvenience. Tony sighs and leans back into the disgustingly thin hospital pillow, resigning himself to ignoring a lecture. “You jumped from the high board into an empty swimming pool!”

 

“Did I?” Tony replies, bored. “Don't remember that. Then again, I was spectacularly smashed.” He examines his nails. There's

some dried blood stuck under his thumbnail. Tony hopes it's not his, but it probably is.

 

“I will not stand idly by while my son kills himself,” Howard growls, and Tony raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

 

“Aw, but you've been doing so well so far. Why stop now?”

 

“No more.” Howard pins him with a glare. “You are a disgrace to the Stark name and your behavior is entirely unbefitting of the heir to my company.” Tony rolls his eyes and prepares to snark back, but Howard continues before he can. “I was clearly incorrect in assuming that you would outgrow this childish acting out for attention on your own.”

 

Tony can feel his face twist into a snarl, opens his mouth to shout, but Howard holds up a hand and that simple motion is enough to stop the words dead in Tony's throat.

 

“I refuse to fund your self-destruction any longer.” Tony feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. “You have scholarships to keep you at MIT, and you clearly think you are old enough to make your own decisions, stupid though they are.” Howard adjusts his cuff links, oblivious to or, more likely, intentionally ignoring Tony's mounting horror. “You will still gain access to your fortune when you turn 21 in two years, but I am suspending your monthly allowance.”

 

“B-but how will I buy things? How will I pay rent?” Tony's not an idiot, he knows that most college students aren't completely supported by their parents, but he’s never seriously considered the prospect of having to pay for his own food, clothes, and luxurious apartment.

 

Howard shrugs, unconcerned. “I suggest you get a job. Take on a roommate, perhaps. When you can prove to me that you have matured and are worthy to take on the mantle of Stark Industries, we can renegotiate. That means no drugs, no partying, no excessive drinking.” His glare is a physical blow. “No scandals.” He doesn't say it, but Tony knows he’s thinking of last month, when Tony had been caught in bed with a politician’s son. “Until then, learn to live like a normal student.”

 

Then Howard leaves, his dress shoes clicking against the tile. Tony watches him go silently.

 

He's released from the hospital the next day and evicted from his apartment two weeks later. Pepper’s kind enough to let him crash on her couch for nearly a month, but she’s in the midst of a particularly challenging class schedule at Harvard, and it's not long before she gently instructs him to find his own place so she can study for peace in once.

 

What follows is an almost embarrassingly long string of failed roommates. Tony's rifts from dorm room to apartment to (for one exciting weekend) sorority house. He's well liked, he knows that, he's charismatic and popular and good looking, but apparently that's not enough when his charm comes hand in hand with loud experiments at five in the morning. Tony tries to explain that sometimes he wakes up with an idea and he just has to build it _right then_ , but that doesn't stop him from being kicked out over and over again.

 

Finally, he finds a listing online that seems promising. Two bath, full kitchen, bigots need not apply. It's extremely reasonably priced, and Tony's desperate.

 

His roommate, Bucky, seems like a pretty cool guy, and Tony is delighted to see his arm. It'd taken months of petitioning before Howard allowed Tony to start a prosthesis line of Stark Industries, and it's viciously satisfying to see his invention actually helping someone, not just in the theoretical sense. Plus, Bucky's hella hot, and that's always something nice to see in one’s roommates.

 

Tony figures it'll be a nice few days before Bucky gets tired of him and kicks him out just like everyone else.

 

* * *

 

“See th’ pro- the pro’lem, the pro’lem is, Rhodey are you lis’ning?” Tony pokes the shoulder that's supporting him.

 

Rhodey rolls his head around to regard him with one glazed eye. “Yeah?”

 

“The pro’lem is that Bucky- he’s not jus’ hot, y’know?” Tony frowns, hoping that his best friend understands what he means. “Like, he's nice.”

 

Rhodey’s nodding his head along to the music pounding through the room, but when Tony looks at him expectantly, he quickly nods. “Yeah, yeah, ‘s nice.” His gaze slides away to follow a girl that smiles at him from across the crowded living room.

 

Tony frowns and pokes his shoulder again. “No, y’don’t, you don’t understand. Las’ week he spent an hour - an hour! - in the rain ‘cause ‘Tasha lost her cat. He didn’ come home ‘til he found it.”

 

“Yeah, Tones, he’s nice.” Rhodey chances a smile back at the girl and she winks. Promising.

 

Tony sighs and flops back into the couch cushions. “An’ he’s funny and sar- sarcas’ic and really smart and hot.”

 

“Really hot?” Rhodey prompts absently. He recognizes the girl now, from his aerodynamics class. Carol something.

 

“Sooooooo hot.” Tony groans and scrubs a hand across his face. “The hottest.”

 

“So ask him out,” Rhodey says, glancing back towards his friend. He loves Tony, but sometimes the genius is kind of an idiot.

 

“I can't ask him out!” Tony squawks, jolting upright. “He's my roommate! It’d be- it’ll be awk- awkward when he says no.”

 

“He won’ say no,” Rhodey assures with the deliberate slowness of the truly drunk. “I seen- I’ve seen how he looks at you. He likes you too.”

 

Tony devotes himself to downing the last of his beer instead of answering and Rhodey sighs. “You’ll see,” he proclaims and pushes himself to his feet. He sways there for a moment, gaze flashing between his friend and Carol. “Call me over when you wanna leave. It's past your bedtime.”

 

Tony scowls at that but doesn't protest. It's been established at this point that yes, Tony does get really grumpy if he stays up too late and although Tony won't admit it except in the privacy of his own mind, he's trying to avoid making Bucky upset. Tony’s chances are bad enough, he doesn't need to snap at Bucky in the midst of post-party grumpiness and make everything worse. “Yeah, yeah,” he waves his friend off. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

 

Rhodey grins and stumbles off towards Carol, who’s watching his advance with a grin. Looks like Rhodey will be getting lucky tonight.

 

Tony sighs loudly and cracks open another beer.

 

 

* * *

 

It wouldn't be such a problem, Tony thinks three months into his new living arrangement, if he was allowed to nurse his pathetic crush in private. But Rhodey teases him relentlessly, Pepper keeps encouraging Tony to ask Bucky out, and even Happy casts pointed glances between him and Bucky whenever they're all out together. Tony's not allowed to suffer in silence.

 

Even worse, though, is when strangers mistake them for a couple, which happens disturbingly frequently.

 

When they reward themselves after a particularly challenging exam in one of their shared classes with dinner at a fancier restaurant than usual, their waiter lights a candle for their table.

 

When Bucky orders for Tony at the ice cream parlor (triple chocolate chip, rainbow sprinkles), the girl behind the counter asks if his boyfriend would like a waffle cone.

 

When Tony drags Bucky along with him to the florist while he gets flowers for Pepper, the elderly woman behind the counter pats his hand and tells them that they're very brave.

 

Tony blushes and stutters and insists that _sorry, no, they're not dating_ , but every time something clenches in his heart and he can't look straight at Bucky for several minutes afterwards.

 

It comes to a head a few days after Steve heads back to New York. Some nosy reporter looking for their big break into the world of gossip magazines sneaks into the library where Bucky and Tony are studying. Tony can admit that maybe they are sitting rather close to each other and the grin he directs at Bucky might be… affectionate, but they don't certainly don't warrant the headlines, blocks of print proclaiming the Stark heir’s secret homosexual romance. It hits the papers before Howard can catch it and is distributed across the entirety of the nation by six am.

 

Tony stares at the stack on the counter of the corner shop, his coffee going cold in his hand and his books slung forgotten over one shoulder. The cashier is saying something, chatting about the weather or something, but her words don't register in the static that fills Tony’s mind.

  
Bucky is going to be _pissed_.


	3. Chapter 3

For once, Tony finds himself desperately grateful that Bucky refuses to wake up before 10 unless he absolutely has to. It gives him a leeway period of about three hours to flee the country. Ideally he could get a direct flight across the Atlantic, but considering the state of his finances, it might be more realistic to head north into Canada. Tony will have to sneak back into their apartment to grab his passport and a bag of clothes, but it's doable.

 

It's around this time that Pepper smacks the back of his head. “You're not going to run away, Tony,” she tells him, tone somewhere between fondly amused and exasperated. “You're going back to your apartment and you are talking to him like a normal human being.” This sounds like an order, and Tony, currently sprawled across her couch, groans into the cushions.

 

“No I'm not. I'm moving to Canada.”

 

Pepper, however, is Pepper, and a mere mortal like Tony can't protest against her for very long. Half an hour later, he's regarding the innocently painted blue door of their apartment with an impending sense of doom.

 

“It'll be fine,” Pepper says, and she only laughs at the betrayed look Tony gives her. “I'll see you after class!”

 

Tony watches her go, wishing, not for the first time, that he'd had the good sense to fall in love with her, instead of his super hot and super unattainable roommate.

 

He takes a deep breath, rolls back his shoulders, prepares for war, and steps into apartment.

 

Bucky is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a magazine. _The_ magazine.

 

Tony stops dead in the doorway. He feels like he's been sucker-punched, all his air leaving him in a soft “oh,” as his gaze flashes back and forth between the magazine and Bucky.

 

Bucky looks up at him with a smirk, wry and gorgeous and Tony _actually wants to sink through the floor._ “Yeah, oh,” he calls out, and Tony forces himself to shuffle further into the apartment. Bucky waits until he's closed the door behind him, each movement deliberately slow, before he pins Tony with an even gaze. “I think we should probably talk about this.” He shakes the magazine.

 

Tony nods slowly, and braces himself for heartbreak.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky is woken by the phone ringing at 6:13 AM. He rolls over and covers his head with a pillow, but the shrill tone of their landline pierces his shield easily. It rings and rings, without Tony there to pick it up, until finally Bucky admits defeat and stumbles out of bed.

 

It stops ringing just as Bucky reaches the kitchen handset, which is, as Bucky mutters to himself, “fucking typical.”

 

His day is not off to a great start.

 

But there's a blinking light on the answering machine to indicate a voicemail, and Bucky figures he might as well find out why he's awake at this ungodly hour.

 

Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't Howard Stark.

 

 _“Anthony Edward Stark, stop ignoring my calls. I am swamped with work trying to get this latest contract with the Navy through and the last thing I need is your homosexual scandal in the news! This is an unmitigated disaster, and if you don't have the common decency to call me back, I'll make the time to come visit you and your faggot ‘roommate’ in person.”_ Howard pauses, breathing heavily into the receiver while Bucky stares at the machine in shock.

 

_“We had a deal, Anthony, and here you are, embarrassing my good name yet again. I’m almost grateful your mother isn't alive to see this. Call me, Anthony. Soon.”_

 

The message ends with a click, leaving Bucky gaping at the machine.

 

He abruptly spins away and dashes out of the apartment, pajamas and all.

  


 

And that's how Tony finds him twenty minutes later, sipping at his sorely-needed coffee and flipping through the article with growing horror. He hadn't realized his adoring glances were so obvious, but in the undeniable reality of a photograph, Bucky looks positively lovestruck.

 

It's pathetic.

 

He doesn't want to talk about it, he really, really doesn't want to, but Bucky sees the sick _look_ Tony directs the magazine when he walks in, knows his very heterosexual friend must be disgusted by the implications in the article. It's up to Bucky to assure Tony that he has no designs on the genius’s masculinity. He has to salvage this, has to make sure they can remain roommates, remain friends.

 

It's not fair. It's not fucking fair because Bucky _does_ have designs, he has tons of very enthusiastic designs, and even if he's only ever been able to entertain them in the middle of the night, Bucky has always been able to convince himself that it was at least within the range of conceivable possibility that he and Tony could go out someday. Now Bucky has to crush those fantasies, has to confirm to himself and the world that Tony would never want to date him, that he's probably sick at the very idea.

 

It hurts, somewhere deep in Bucky’s chest.

 

He does his best to keep his expression blank as Tony slowly sits down across the table from him.

 

Awkward silence reigns for a minute as they regard the magazine on the table and studiously avoid each other's eyes. There's something ridiculous about it, the way Tony reads the headline for the seventh time and Bucky examines the dregs of his coffee as if they contain the secret to the universe.

 

Bucky clears his throat. He insisted that they had to talk, he should be the one to actually, well, _talk._

 

Tony beats him to it. “I'm sorry,” he blurts out, and Bucky jerks his head up to find Tony watching him with wide, panicked eyes. “I didn't know there was any paparazzi watching us, I swear!” Tony apparently takes Bucky's confused frown as disapproval, because he continues hastily, tripping over his words in his efforts to reassure Bucky. “I'm not- this doesn't have to change anything between us. I'll stop flirting with you, I can- I'll leave the apartment when you want to shower or whatever, just, please,” Tony's practically begging and Bucky is utterly dumbfounded. “Please don't kick me out.”

 

Tony finally falls silent, and Bucky stares at him, wide-eyed. “What?” He exclaims. “No, I'm the one who should be apologizing! The press thinks I'm dating you! I'm ruining your reputation!”

 

Tony scoffs. “My reputation was ruined long before you came along. But you're straight, why would they blame you? I'm the evil billionaire taking advantage of you poor, straight commoner.”

 

“I'm not straight!”

 

Tony stares at him, wide-eyed. “What?”

 

“I'm not straight! I'm not even bisexual! I'm gay! You're straight!” Bucky is beyond confused, but something like hope is blooming in his chest.

 

“How on earth could you think I was straight?” Tony says, a laugh born of incredulity and something like relief caught in the words. “I flirt with you all the time!”

 

“You flirt with the toaster, Tony, how was I to know you meant it?” Bucky's embarrassed, but he can't suppress the wide grin stretched across his face. “You're always with all those dames in the papers-”

 

“If you should learn anything from this whole fiasco,” Tony says dryly, tapping at the magazine spread out on the table between them, “it's that gossip rags should be taken with a whole bunch of salt. Also, for the billionth time, it's not the 1920s. They're girls, Barnes. Chicks, ladies, babes. Not dames.”

 

“And if _you_ should learn anything from all of this,” Bucky drawls back with a smirk, “it's that I'm not that interested in dames anyways.”

 

He winks, which, to Bucky's delight and amusement, makes Tony flush bright red.

 

Encouraged, Bucky leans across the table towards Tony. “Y'know what I am interested in?

 

Tony licks at his bottom lip, a lightning quick flash of tongue, and the mood in the room abruptly changes. “What?”

 

It takes a bravery Bucky hadn't thought himself capable of, but he smirks at Tony and states plainly, “kissing you.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony's eyes are blown wide, “yeah, I suppose that would be alright.”

 

They'll have to deal with other things later, Bucky knows, Howard and the rent and friends who will be insufferably smug. But for now, he kisses his roommate and friend and something more, and everything is right with the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any remaining formatting or grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoyed, and remember: comments are authors' nourishment for the soul!


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